Lets Go Jump In A Big Ass Lake

I think I mentioned this last week… I’m heading out of town with the Lady Friend tomorrow morning. We’re going “up north” as Minnesotans like to say. Actually, Minnesotans would say “Up Nort Der, dontcha know.” That’s a joke. We don’t all talk like slack jawed yokels… just some of us. The Lady Friend and

This Just In: Weiner Out

What would we do without stupid celebrities and politicians? I mean, late night talk show hosts, bloggers, 140 character Twitter comedians and pretty much everyone else who enjoys making jokes at the expense of people at their lowest points would have to find their own material. Thankfully we have an endless supply of these stupid

Weiners And Drunks

Hard to believe but the weekend is over – and I’m back to work already. Last week was a long one, and this week will be even worse. We’re extremely busy at work right now and I’m just hoping to get through the next 7 days, after that we get back into a normal routine

Tuesday Quickie

This will be a quickie post. There’s nothing wrong with a quickie right? Especially on a Tuesday when you don’t want to deal with all that time-wasting clothes removal. First I wanted to thank all of you for being such AWESOME commenters. I have always said this: I have the best commenters anywhere on the

My Strange Addiction

I watch a lot of really crappy TV shows. One could say a shitload of crappy TV but would that be weirdly redundant? Either way I watch plenty. And this is not a complaint. I could do other things.. read books, surf the net for nudie pics, work on my blog. Note to self… Idea

From beneath….

Well this is awkward. I kinda feel like the family member who borrows a bunch of money, and then disappears for a few years, before showing up at a funeral or some shit. I’m not good with awkward conversation and platitudes, so we’ll gracefully move on and perhaps you’ll listen while I fill you in

It’s All About The Money

I’m writing this from the sanctuary of the bathroom today. My family keep assaulting me with hugs and love, and demands of my attention. Can’t a guy get some peace. My wife is on a crusade to find all our legal documents. We’re trying to extract as much money from the government as possible. Today’s

Freudian Tip

I seem to have started a therapist turf war. I’m in demand. I’m seeing a Therapist about a half an hour away in downtown Portland, but the local Therapist ain’t having that. Downtown Therapist has stepped on suburban Therapist’s patch, and it’s going to end only one way: in a violent and bloody shoot-out. Or

H.E.R.O.

If you haven’t picked up on it from some of my other blog posts, I’ll spell it out: I’ve been feeling a little depressed lately. That’s nothing too unusual for me; I suffer from depression and anxiety. My doctor told me. Depression, for the uninitiated, isn’t a simple case of feeling a bit blue, a

Oedipus, Simple!

My son sleeps with my wife. I sleep in the next room — his! It’s an arrangement that would make Oedipus himself puce with jealousy. There’s a simple enough explanation for this, and no it doesn’t rhyme with divschmorce. The reason: my son is a fucking bully. My wife and I have obviously discussed the